


Something Wicked

by TheSpiderWeb



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Magic, BAMF Stiles, But it's gonna be really good I promise, M/M, Magic-Users, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Not sure what else to tag yet it's very new, Pack Bonding, Pack Feels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-18 22:07:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11883801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSpiderWeb/pseuds/TheSpiderWeb
Summary: Stiles Stilinski was expecting a somewhat normal college experience. He figured he'd go to parties, get laid, maybe join a frat, and have a good time. However, he didn't account for the secrets that were awaiting him at Westport University. Between learning that the supernatural is more than a myth, trying to pass his rather unorthodox classes, and uncovering the truth about his mother's mysterious death, Stiles's experience will be anything but normal.And then there's the sexy, yet broody, Derek Hale. Stiles is drawn to the man in ways he can't explain, but he thinks he likes it. Can he find love amdist the chaos that is his new life?**Please be gentle lovelies, this is my first ever fic <3**





	Something Wicked

**Author's Note:**

> I know the beginning is kinda slow, but it just kinda came out of me like this lol. Sorry if you're bored, but it'll ramp up real soon trust me <3
> 
> I have no beta so all mistakes are my own.

“I think that’s the last of them,” Stiles grunted as he tried to force the trunk of his baby closed. He couldn’t quite get it to latch, causing it to spring open and all of the meticulously arranged luggage bags to fall to the ground.  


Groaning, Stiles bent over to begin picking them up. “That’s the spirit, son!” The Sheriff called jovially as he came strolling out of their house with a box that Stiles had forgotten. The two of them were making the final preparations for Stiles’s drive to Seattle. He was getting ready to start his first semester at Westport University, something he was equally excited and terrified about.  


“A little help would be swell, dad,” Stiles said, glancing up at his father with a mock glare. Chuckling good-naturedly, John reached down to help his only son. Together, the two Stilinski men managed to get all of the bags tucked away into Roscoe with plenty of affectionate teasing from the Sheriff and complaining from Stiles.  


After they were finished, the mood grew somber and their playful bantering ground to a halt. “Are you sure you don’t need me to come with you, Stiles?” the Sheriff asked earnestly.  


“Psh, no, c’mon pops, you know me. I’ll be okay. Plus it’s, like, not even that far of a drive,” Stiles replied with forced nonchalance, his face the picture of innocence. Truthfully, he’d love it if his dad came with him to get settled in at his new home for at least the next four years. However, he’d feel too guilty about taking the man away from his job and the people that needed him.  


As sheriff of Beacon Hills, John was the de facto leader of the small town despite the fact that they also had a mayor. He was essentially a figurehead, and many of the important decisions regarding the town were ran past John instead.  


“Son,” the Sheriff deadpanned with his signature ‘cut the crap’ look, “it’s a twelve hour drive. The furthest you’ve driven was 45 minutes to the next town to buy those condemns in your backpack that you think I don’t know about.”  


Stiles felt his cheeks heat as he sputtered indignantly and flailed. He could have sworn that he was being discrete when he had driven out to Beacon Valley last night, having told his dad that he was heading out for some last minute ‘supplies’. He should have known that the distracted “Be safe, son” the Sheriff had called after him hadn’t meant that the older man believed his lie. He’d never been able to get anything past his father’s shrewd detective brain.  


The Sheriff’s expression morphed into a shit-eating grin upon noticing his son’s uncomfortable state. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Stiles. Why, when I was your age I went through a box of those every we—“  


“Aaaand we’re not having this conversation,” Stiles squeaked, interrupting his father’s attempts at embarrassing him further.  


The Sheriff let out a hearty laugh before sobering once more. “Stiles I just…” John sighed, “your mother would be so proud of you.”  


Stiles tried and failed to swallow around the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat. They never talked about his mom unless the Sheriff had more than a few drinks under his belt. He’d only been nine years old when she died, leaving the two of them behind. The subsequent years had been rough on the both of them, but they leant on each other and picked up the pieces of their lives.  


Claudia had graduated from Westport herself around twenty years prior. She had always talked excitedly about Stiles one day attending her alma mater, claiming it would be the perfect school for her little Mischief. For him to have been accepted, with a full ride no less, was a dream come true for the both of them.  


“Thanks, dad,” Stiles said roughly, refusing to meet his father’s gaze in a futile attempt at hiding his wet eyes. The Sheriff pulled Stiles forward into one of the famous Stilinski bear hugs. Burying his face in his father’s shoulder, Stiles inhaled the man’s unique scent of aftershave and gunpowder. This might be the last time he would be able to do so for a while.  


The two lingered in their embrace for several minutes, soaking in the comfort only family could bring. “You’re gonna call me, kid,” John said sternly. “At least once a week. And I expect at least two text messages a day letting me know how you’re doing. And for god’s sake son, visit your old man once in a while, yeah?”  


“Sir, yes sir,” Stiles replied with a cheeky grin. “And you make sure to stick to your diet. Every restaurant in town knows not to serve you anything greasy or fried, and I’ve enlisted Parrish to keep an eye on you as well.” Stiles had so much dirt on the good deputy that convincing him to be the executor of operation keep-the-sheriff-alive-by-forcing-him-to-eat-disgusting-green-things had been child’s play. The name was a work in progress, of course.  


John groaned in exasperation, somehow still surprised at the lengths that his overbearing son would go to in order to make sure he watched what he ate. “I changed my mind. No need to come down for visits, you’re banned from stepping foot in this town for the next four years.” Stiles just laughed brightly in response, knowing his father was far from serious.  


“You’ll miss me, and you know it,” Stiles said, sticking his tongue out childishly. The Sheriff’s eyes softened.  


“Yeah. Yeah I will.”  


They both grew somber once more, giving Stiles emotional whiplash. He needed to get out of there before they broke down into hysterics, the Sheriff begging Stiles to stay and Stiles hastily agreeing.  


“Alright, looks like I’m all set. I better get going before the sun rises if I’m gonna make it there in time for evening check-in. I love you, dad.” Stiles said, attempting a reassuring smile.  


“Love you too, kid.” After one more quick hug, Stiles got into his jeep and began backing out of the driveway. He could see his father waving in his rearview mirror until he turned the corner, leaving behind the street and the home where he had grown up for the past eighteen years. He could already feel pangs of homesickness weaving their way through his chest, but his stomach fluttered with the excitement of the unknown before him.  


Choosing to shove down his melancholy for the time being, Stiles flicked on his specially made roadtrip playlist. It had every obnoxious, catchy pop song he could find, as well as all of his favorites. As the beginning notes of Florence + the Machine’s ‘Shake It Out’ filled his ears, Stiles knew that he’d be alright.  


“Seattle here I come,” Stiles muttered happily to himself as he made his way toward the only highway exit out of Beacon Hills. This was the beginning of his new adventure, and he was as ready as he was ever going to be.  


~*~  


The trip was hell. Stiles couldn’t sit still to save his life on a normal day, but his jitters about the upcoming semester coupled with his ADHD left him in a state of constant restlessness. Had it not been for his need to focus on the road, Stiles wasn’t sure if he would have been able to make the trip in one sitting. He was currently debating making a pit stop to stretch his legs again, but he knew that he was getting close and just wanted to get there already.  


Stiles let out a grateful groan when he passed the ‘Welcome to Seattle!’ sign soon after his decision, certain that he wouldn’t have lasted another minute.  


“I shoulda let dad help me drive,” he muttered to himself, causing a brief wave of sadness to pass over him. He shook himself, determined to start his college experience off with a good mood. He had already made it to Seattle, and now all he had to do was locate Westport’s campus. He glanced over to check the directions that his father had printed for him, only to let a squawk of dismay as he saw that the bottle of doctor pepper that he’d bought a couple of hours ago had leaked all over the documents.  


Cursing colorfully to himself, Stiles pulled over to the shoulder and gingerly picked up his soaked directions. He couldn’t make anything out, the dark liquid of his soda having mixed in with the paper and caused the ink to run. He checked his phone, hoping to use the built-in GPS, but the battery was dead because he had forgotten to charge it the previous night. With a sigh, Stiles put the jeep back into drive and resigned himself to just driving around and asking directions until he found the place.  


“Should be easy enough, right?” Stiles said to himself desperately. Never in his life had he been so wrong.  


Several trips down shady streets later, Stiles found himself in possession of the location of one of the local drug dealers, a really good hotdog from a less than sanitary food truck (what? He was hungry, sue him), and the numbers of not one, but two prostitutes that had propositioned him when he stopped to ask for directions. Stiles hadn’t been able to do anything except stammer and accept their business cards before he realized that he still hadn’t managed to find out how exactly to get to WU.  


Just when he thought his situation couldn’t get any worse, Stiles found himself driving through a hilly area surrounded by forest when Roscoe decided that it would be a good time for a nap.  


“No, no, baby no, c’mon, don’t do this to me!” Stiles whined hysterically when the tell-tale gasping of Roscoe’s engine signified his impending break-down. Getting out of the jeep, Stiles popped the hood, only to jump back and hiss in pain as hot air blew up from the engine.  


“Dammit!” Stiles shouted, kicking one of Roscoe’s front tires. He gasped as pain flooded his foot, and began hopping around on his other foot while holding the injured extremity and swearing profusely. Stiles felt frustrated tears fill his eyes. Not even one day into his college experience and he already felt like he couldn’t handle being on his own.  


Just as he was resigning himself to begin the long walk back into town on a sore foot for some help, Stiles noticed an old sign about a mile back down the road. Squinting, he made out the words “Westport University Here”. Relief flooded through him. How had he missed that? He excitedly hopped back into the jeep before remembering that it was currently broken down.  


“Okay, so, I found it. Now I just need you to start, baby. Please? C’mon, you’re always so good to me. Don’t give up on me now!” Stiles realized that he must be desperate if he was resorting to begging machinery. However, just then, Roscoe roared to life, his engine sputtering a bit before settling into a low purr.  


Stiles checked the ignition, noting that the key had seemingly turned on its own. “Okaaaayyyyy… that wasn’t weird at all.” Shrugging to himself, Stiles made a quick u-turn and made his way back the way he’d come towards the university sign. He’d take what he could get.  


Once he had turned onto the road that the sign had been indicating, he noticed more signs directing him toward freshmen check-in. Following them, he soon came upon a grassy area next to a parking lot that held a multitude of tables sporting signs that sorted students by year and last name. Stiles parked his jeep and made his way over to the table labeled ‘Freshmen N-Z’. There he was greeted by a group of overly friendly upperclassmen wearing black and gold ‘Student Life and Leadership’ shirts. They gave him directions to Solomon Hall, the dorm he’d be staying in this semester, and gave him the name of his RA and what room he’d be found in so that Stiles could get his room key.  


Stiles thanked them and made his way back to his jeep, his earlier frustration giving way to excitement now that he was actually there. Just as he was preparing to climb into Roscoe, his whiskey colored eyes locked with the multi-colored eyes of someone else.  


He was built like a Renaissance statue, with sharp, angular features and a muscular frame. His arms were crossed over a ‘Student Life and Leadership’ shirt pulled taut over his defined chest, causing his biceps to bulge. Stiles noticed that his stubble-covered face was pulled into a predatory smirk as those captivating eyes raked up and down Stiles’s form. Stiles shivered as he felt the gaze burn into him like a brand. He gave the man a tentative wave, not sure what else to do. This only caused the man’s smirk to grow wider as he nodded politely at Stiles and winked.  


Stiles blushed before hurrying back into his jeep, determined to make it to his new dorm before he did something to embarrass himself. He knew one thing for sure: he wasn’t going to ruin his college experience by making a fool of himself in front of hot strangers. It was a rule to live by.


End file.
